


i never do this, but—

by beeeskneees



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A one night stand turns into a hell of a lot more, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, But Sherlock is clean during the story and will remain that way in this universe forever, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, John Watson Has a Large Cock, John is about 30 and Sherlock is about 25, John is still in the army, M/M, Part-epistolary, Sherlock is just starting his career, Sherlock is very impressed, They are younger than canon age here, bottomlock, top!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-03-06 17:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13415871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeeskneees/pseuds/beeeskneees
Summary: That one moment had sparked a series of events that included—among other things—John coming over to Sherlock with a full pint in his hand and telling him that it was a shame for him not to have a drink; Sherlock forcing himself to drink beer even though he far preferred wine or any other, tastier alcohol; Sherlock deducing John’s entire family history and status among his friends; John and Sherlock not looking up from one another to the point where John’s friends left without him because they apparently couldn’t get his attention; and finally, John boldly asking him if he wanted to take this somewhere else.---Or, John is in London on leave from the army and has a one-night-stand with Sherlock that ends up spiraling into much more.





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I'm essentially writing this story around a scene requested by an anonymous user on tumblr who asked for "a fic where john is on leave from the army, but not one where scotland yard finds out, just one where he comes home to sherlock for a little?" 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_I never do this_ , Sherlock thought for perhaps the millionth time that evening. _Why am I doing this?_

And, indeed, he had never done _any_ of this before. He would have continued not doing any of this had it not been for the fact that the beer at the pub had affected him more than he’d anticipated.

He had gone there for fairly innocent reasons. Marcia Short came to him convinced that her fiancé was a member of the team that had committed a rather elaborate and compelling bank heist a few days earlier. This was the second such heist to take place during the time in which her fiancé, Marvin Gash, was home on military leave.   Ms. Short had thought it too much of a coincidence to ignore, and Sherlock decided that potentially capturing such an impressive thief warranted his attention.

And that was how he found himself at Grayson’s Public House, an apparently popular haunt among military men on leave. It hadn’t taken long to locate Gash, singing drunkenly on top of a table toward the rear, and it took only slightly longer for Sherlock to disappointingly work out that this idiot was not involved in any elaborate bank heist. He was hiding infidelity at most. Sherlock had sullenly pulled his phone out to text Ms. Short the news when he caught sight of another soldier standing a short distance away with a few of his mates.

God, the man was handsome. All military men were handsome, of course, especially when they were in uniform (and all of these men had been, likely to increase their appeal to any potential sexual partners—it was _very_ effective). The one who had caught Sherlock’s eye was unlike the rest of them, though. His uniform bore the telltale markings of a medic. Not just a soldier—an army doctor. An army doctor with strong arms, a compact body, and a face that made Sherlock’s knees feel a bit tingly.

The man—John, as Sherlock later learned—had looked up to find him staring, and rather than seeming put off, he smirked and raised his glass, as if to share in a private, long-distance toast with Sherlock. Sherlock, lacking a drink, had raised his phone in a lame reciprocation of the gesture.

That one moment had sparked a series of events that included—among other things—John coming over to Sherlock with a full pint in his hand and telling him that it was a shame for him not to have a drink; Sherlock forcing himself to drink beer even though he far preferred wine or any other, tastier alcohol; Sherlock deducing John’s entire family history and status among his friends; John and Sherlock not looking up from one another to the point where John’s friends left without him because they apparently couldn’t get his attention; and finally, John boldly asking him if he wanted to take this somewhere else.

And that was how Sherlock ended up leading a soldier on leave into his flat on Montague Street.

 _I never do this_ , he thought again as he flicked on the light in his rather drab sitting room.

The flat itself was unimpressive—precisely what would be expected of a lonely genius with no real career prospects and a penchant for narcotics—but John didn’t seem to notice. Instead, as soon as they were inside, he kicked the door shut and tugged Sherlock down into a kiss. Sherlock let out a surprised _ah_ that was smothered against John’s lips. There was only a second or two of just that, of just lips pressed together, of something chaste, and then John was licking into his mouth in the most obscene way. Sherlock groaned, his arms coming up to wrap tightly around John’s neck. He stepped forward so that they were pressed against one another. One of John’s hands rested on the side of his neck, and the other snaked around his waist to keep him close, and, oh, Sherlock was in trouble. Although he didn’t have much experience kissing someone like this—full of heat and desire and promise—he did his best to keep up, to show John that he was entirely comfortable with the trajectory of the evening, and it seemed that John was picking up on his non-verbal communication.

It wasn’t long before Sherlock felt himself start to get hard. While a bit embarrassing, especially given the fact that he was pressed up against John, he was actually rather proud that he’d managed to stave off his arousal for this long. He tilted his hips back a bit to disguise his situation, but John wordlessly pulled him forward again, his arm behind Sherlock’s back preventing any additional attempts to retreat. Sherlock’s cheeks began to heat as his erection pressed firmly against John’s hip.

John broke the kiss, tearing an involuntary whine from Sherlock, and murmured, “God, the things you do to me.” He kissed and bit his way down Sherlock’s neck, all the while grinding their hips together, and, _oh_ , yes, clearly he was having some effect on John, and the sheer size of the hardness pressed against his leg made Sherlock dizzy. He decided that he needed to see what John was hiding _immediately_.

“Bedroom,” he said, and when John simply continued to suck at his neck, Sherlock pushed him away just hard enough to force John to look back up at him. He noted the momentary concern in John’s features before he rolled his eyes and began herding the soldier toward his bedroom.

“You’re pushy once you get going,” John teased, although he let himself be led toward Sherlock’s room.

Once inside, Sherlock shut the door behind them. “And you’re rather slow,” he countered.

He should have been nervous. This was his first time, after all, and he was doing it with a complete stranger, but there was something about John that set his nerves alight, that engaged him to his core, that made him _want_. All he could think about was seeing what he’d felt pressed against him out in the entryway.

John laughed good-naturedly and stripped off the top half of his uniform, exposing a firm, bare chest and glittering dog tags.

Sherlock licked his lips. John’s midsection was a few shades paler than his face and hands, and he was in peak physical condition—the very manifestation of Sherlock’s deepest fantasies.

“Your turn,” John said, forcing Sherlock’s eyes to flick back up to his face. John looked both cocky and amused, and on anyone else it would have been an infuriating expression, but John had certainly earned the right to wear it. “Let me see you.”

And there was just enough of a command in John’s tone for a shiver to roll down Sherlock’s spine. He immediately set about undressing, carelessly tossing his clothes in a pile. He, unlike John, was not a quitter, and so he didn’t stop at just removing his shirt, instead stripping down to absolutely nothing, leaving him standing in his room completely nude in front of a man still half-dressed.

The air in the room felt too cold on his heated skin, and he wrapped his arms around himself, partly to ward off the chill and partly to take back some of the modesty he’d just discarded. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to just rid himself of all clothing, but he was now feeling a resurgence of self-consciousness.

“Christ,” John breathed, and Sherlock forced himself once more to meet John’s gaze. Only, this time, John wasn’t looking at his face. His eyes instead moved down Sherlock’s body, his skin flushing in their wake as if the stare was a physical touch.  

It was unnerving to be the subject of that level of scrutiny, and Sherlock, as was his habit when dealing with new emotional states, lashed out. “Are you just going to look at me all night, or are you going to take advantage of the fact that you have a very willing sexual partner right in front of you?” he snapped.

John didn’t seem bothered in the least by Sherlock’s tone. Instead, he smiled a bit, bringing his eyes up to meet Sherlock’s. “If it’s all right with you, I might just look at you all night,” he said, clearly teasing.

Sherlock wasn’t sure what to make of it.

John took a few steps forward so that he could reach out and run his hands down Sherlock’s arms. “I knew you were brilliant, but you’re so damn gorgeous, too. It’s not even fair.”

“Oh,” Sherlock said, his cheeks now heating for an entirely different reason. He didn’t know how to respond to that statement. He dropped his arms down to his sides.

John kissed him again, and this time it was a bit sweeter than before. John was gentle, his hands simply stroking Sherlock’s skin, as if trying to soothe him, and Sherlock let himself be soothed, eyes falling shut and arms coming up to wrap around John’s waist. He let out a gasp at the feeling of John’s thick and sturdy trousers brushing up against his exposed cock. John smiled against his lips at that and nudged Sherlock back onto the bed. Sherlock went easily enough and propped himself up on his elbows so that he could look at John.

“You’re still not naked,” he pointed out.

John smirked. “Can’t get anything by you, can I?”

Sherlock smiled, and John undid the button and zip on his trousers and pulled them and his pants down in one swift move. He kicked off his shoes and socks after the fact, which made for a slightly awkward disrobing that had Sherlock giggling on the bed. John didn’t seem displeased by that, merely grinning at Sherlock triumphantly when he was finally naked.

As John stood up completely, his penis now fully exposed for Sherlock, all thoughts of teasing him evaporated.

Sherlock’s eyes went wide.

John was _big_. Significantly bigger than Sherlock, who knew that he was only moderately below the national average. Thick, too. That was the sort of cock people dreamt of.

In that moment, John was such an embodiment of Sherlock’s every sexual desire that he felt a bit light-headed, and perhaps because of that, the rest of the evening passed in a blur.

Three separate blurs, to be exact, which consisted of _Just like that, love_ s and _Yes, John, oh, John_ s and _fuck, you feel so good, baby_ s; of pleasure so intense that Sherlock started to wonder how he had ever thought he’d be happy going without this for the rest of his life; of John taking care of him in every possible way three glorious times; of begging and receiving and soft whispers and shouts; and finally, of collapsing together in a sweaty heap on his mattress when he simply couldn’t fathom going any further, after which both of them were so exhausted that they fell asleep like that, tangled up together, Sherlock’s head on John’s chest.

 

\---

 

Sherlock woke the next morning to find himself alone in bed. His sweat had completely dried in the night, leaving him feeling rather disgusting in the aftermath. Of course, part of that disgusting feeling could have been from the healthy dose of shame that washed over him as he dealt with the disappointment of waking up alone. Why had he ever expected for John to stick around? It had been a one-night-stand for a soldier who would be imminently heading back out into a war-zone.

God, he was an idiot.

He sat up, fully preparing to wallow in self-pity for the rest of the morning in his disgusting flat in this disgusting state, when he noticed a slip of paper on his other pillow.

 

_Sherlock (at least I think that’s how you spell a name like that, but you can’t fault me if I’m totally wrong),_

_I never do this for probably obvious reasons, and I think all of my reasons are probably obvious to you—you’re so bloody clever. That thing you did at the pub was just—no one else can do that. It’s amazing._

_Shit, I’m rambling, which I didn’t even think was possible to do when it’s not out loud, and I’m really not making this any better._

_Anyway, you don’t strike me much as the letter-writing type, so I thought I’d give you my email address in case you wanted to, you know, keep in touch or something._

_Captain John Watson_

_P.S. Sorry about running off this morning! I’m heading back out today, so I had to make sure I wasn’t going to miss my flight._

_P.P.S. I’m going to have access to wifi on the plane._

Below both post-scripts was a hastily written email address.

Sherlock found himself smiling at the note, which was altogether surprising, as he hadn’t exactly given his mouth permission to do that. He stared at the note for a moment longer before grabbing his mobile and composing a quick email.


	2. one day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day after their night together.
> 
> In which Sherlock and John get to know one another a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh okay so this chapter used to be essentially screenshots of an emailed conversation but I decided I wanted to change the format so that it's still text-based but instead is now represented in the formatting of the text rather than in images! Sorry for the confusion, and I really wish I'd sorted this out before writing the fic!

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: You never do this

> What exactly is it about this situation that you never do?

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Hey! I wasn’t actually sure if you’d write. Were you stalling, or did you really just sleep this late? Wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. I’ve been told I’m very good at tiring people out.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> You’re surprisingly confident in your ability to sexually pleasure me for a man who hasn’t actually gotten my feedback on last night.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Sherlock, with the noise you were making last night, I’m pretty sure I don’t need to ask how you liked it. Half of London knew that you were having a good time.`

> ``
> 
> ``
> 
> `For real, though, was it good for you?`

` `` `

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> It was passable. Certainly the best sexual encounter I’ve ever had, but don’t let that go to your head.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `How could I not let that go to my head? You’re telling me I’m the best you’ve ever had.`

> ``
> 
> ``
> 
> `But enough about how great I am in bed. Tell me about yourself.`

` `` `

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> You’re absurd.

> I’m 25 years old, studied Chemistry in university, and am presently the world’s only consulting detective. I’ve got a website. You can look me up.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Right. Found your website. The Science of Deduction. Seems a bit far-fetched, although I did see how you read me last night, so, if anyone could do this sort of thing, I guess it would be you.`

> ``
> 
> ``
> 
> `What’s a consulting detective, and how did you get to be the only one?`

` `` `

` `` `

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> It means that I consult on private cases and, on occasion, work with the police to prevent them from mishandling investigations.

> I’m very good.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `You know, Sherlock Holmes, I rather think you are.`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments/kudos appreciated! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://beeeskneees.tumblr.com/)!


	3. two months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months after their night together.
> 
> In which John misses Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the beginning of chapter notes for chapter 2 if you're confused about the change in this chapter since it was originally posted!

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Hey, haven’t heard from you in a little while. How did that case end up working out?`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> We talked two days ago.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Yeah, yeah, but it feels like ages. Time works differently out here, I swear.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I think you just miss me.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `I can neither confirm nor deny that.`

> ``
> 
> ``
> 
> `Now, the case. What ended up happening? Was it the butler? The maid? A secret twin?`

` `` `

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> Really, John, how many people do you know these days that have butlers? And there was no maid in this case. Also, secret twins are never involved. Ever.

> It was the mistress, like I thought.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `You’ve only been doing this professionally for about a year, Sherlock. You can’t know for sure that there’s never going to be a secret twin in one of your cases.`

> ``
> 
> ``
> 
> `The mistress. Did she put up a fight when you deduced her?`

` `` `

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> She didn’t, but the husband did. The idiots at the Yard are so slow that they let him try to strangle me for nearly a full minute before they managed to pull him off.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Christ. Are you okay? How much force was he using? Do you have any bruising or trouble swallowing?`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> This sudden concern about my ability to swallow—are you thinking back to our night together?

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Just answer the questions, Sherlock.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> You’re being incredibly boring right now.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Yeah, I know how tedious you find it when I try to make sure that you haven’t done any permanent damage to your body while taking these ridiculous risks.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> _I’m_ the one taking ridiculous risks? You’re in Afghanistan right now, John. You can’t exactly lecture me about the importance of safety when you’re in imminent danger of being shot or blown up at any given moment.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `I don’t want to argue right now, Sherlock. Just answer my questions.`

``

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Please.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> He used a moderate amount of force. There’s a little bit of bruising, and aside from difficulty talking immediately after the incident, I’ve seen no changes in my ability to speak, breathe, or swallow.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `You should be fine, then. The bruising should go away on its own in the next few days. Just keep an eye out for any changes in your condition.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> You’ve essentially wasted my time to tell me what I already know.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Can you maybe not be an arse when I’m trying to care about you?`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> You’re not doing a very good job of caring about me from over there.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Is that your twisted way of saying that you want me back in London?`

``

 

 

  
To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> No, of course not. It’s just that if you intend to look after me, it would make more sense for you to do it while you can actually see me and evaluate me for yourself. Not much use when you’re all the way over there.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `You can just say that you miss me, you know.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I don’t miss you. I talk to you all the time. Besides, I only knew you for approximately ten hours before you were on a plane back to your precious war.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `You can miss someone you’ve only known for ten hours, and it’s not _my_ war. It’s a war I happen to be involved in, but it’s not as if I started it.`

``

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Hey, you still there?`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> Why did you sign up for this in the first place?

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `I thought it seemed like a good idea at the time.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> No, you didn’t.

> SH

 

  
To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `You’re right—I didn’t. I just wanted to do _something_ , I guess. Something exciting. Something away from people I knew.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> You were bored.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `You make it sound ridiculous when you put it like that.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I’m not trying to.

> SH

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I understand that sort of boredom.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Is that where the drugs come in?`

``

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Don’t bother denying it. I saw your arms.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I’m not denying it.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Then answer my question.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> The drugs helped with the boredom, yes.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Past tense there. You’re clean now, I take it?`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> At the present moment, I’m clean.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `I know there was probably no danger of you doing this anyway, but don’t start using again on my account, okay?`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> You’re being very presumptuous about your ability to influence my behaviour.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Yeah, I know, but promise me anyway.`

``

``

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Please, Sherlock.`

``

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I promise.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `There’s a lad.`

``

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> Don’t let my acquiescence go to your head. I just didn’t want to deal with you being irritating about this for much longer.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Don’t worry, love. I’m not going to get any cockier than I already am.`

``

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I don’t miss you, but you should come back soon.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `You know, I think I might try.`

``

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> Good.

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Sherlock?`

``

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> Yes?

> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `I miss you, too.`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here!](https://beeeskneees.tumblr.com/)


	4. five months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five months after their first meeting.

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Good morning, gorgeous.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> It’s not morning where you are.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `No, but it is morning where you are.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> Is it? I hadn’t noticed.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `That’s either sarcasm, or you’ve screwed up your sleep schedule so severely that you may very well need to see a professional about it.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I thought I was talking to a professional.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this 

> `You are.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> Problem solved, then.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Wait until I’m back in London before you let my medical opinion be the only one you pursue.`
> 
> ``
> 
> ``
> 
> `Speaking of, I’m going to be back in London next month.`

` `` `

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> Really? I was starting to think you’d decided against it. For how long?
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `A week, and then I’ll have to head back out. I was going to let these seven days just roll over into my next tour, but I’m getting really tired of the sand and heat out here.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I suppose a week is a decent amount of time. Not much sand and heat in London these days.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Which is exactly why I’m coming back.`
> 
> ``
> 
> ``
> 
> `So. What do you think?`

` `` `

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> What do I think about you coming back?
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Yeah.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> It’s not a bad thing, I suppose.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Not a bad thing you suppose. Cheers, love.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I don’t know what else you want me to say.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Nothing, Sherlock. It’s fine.`

``

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `There is something I wanted to talk to you about.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> How ominous.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Last time, I scheduled my leave with one of my mates out here, and he let me crash with him and his fiancé while I was in London, but he’s not coming back with me this time.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> Are you trying to ask me if you can stay at mine while you’re in London?
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Yeah, if you don’t mind.`

``

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `I mean, I can always find somewhere else to crash for the week. I know your place is kind of small.`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I’ve moved since you last saw me. Got a nice spot in central London. There’s a second bedroom, even.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Kicking me out of bed already?`

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this 

> That depends entirely on whether or not you’re as good as you were last time. You might have gotten rusty in the last few months.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Oi. I’ll show you that I’m as good as ever. Just because I’ve been celibate for five months doesn’t mean I’ve completely lost all of my skills.`

``

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> Mm, I’ll be the judge of that.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Prat.`
> 
> ``
> 
> ``
> 
> `So I can stay with you?`

` `` `

` `` `

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> You can stay with me. My landlady will be delighted. She’s always pestering me about having company over.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `Is she the only one that’s going to be delighted?`

``

``

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> You’re really fishing for me to say that I’m eager to see you. It’s ridiculous.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I won’t mind your presence entirely.
> 
> SH

 

 

To: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
From: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> `You really know how to make a guy feel loved.`
> 
> ``
> 
> ``
> 
> `Hate to cut this conversation short, but they’re telling me I’m needed in the med tent. I’ll send you my flight info. x`

` `` `

` `` `

 

 

To: John Watson <john.h.watson@email.co.uk>  
From: Sherlock Holmes <sh@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk>  
Subject: RE: You never do this

> I’m looking forward to it.
> 
> SHx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, might be a little while for the next chapter to be up, but it'll be very long and full of John/Sherlock with one another in person, so it'll be worth it!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://beeeskneees.tumblr.com/)!


	5. six months (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John is on leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This in part fulfills [this prompt](https://beeeskneees.tumblr.com/post/168934336479/i-absolutely-love-your-fics-would-you-consider) I got on tumblr for John coming back from the army on leave to Sherlock for a little while! I was going to do John's entire leave in one chapter but I had to break it up for my own sanity while writing it.

Sherlock’s first instinct was to drop everything in the month before John’s arrival in order to prepare. His flat was, according to Mrs. Hudson, “a disaster,” and he didn’t really like the idea of John thinking poorly of him because of that. He was also working private cases with increasing frequency, leaving him tempted to simply close shop, as it were, so that he wouldn’t have any distractions in his preparations.

For approximately a week, he neglected his emails and his experiments alike as he tried to work out how to make the flat look a bit tidier for John’s military tastes. He toyed with getting rid of some of his scientific paraphernalia, but he didn’t exactly want to hide his interests from John, so he settled for merely re-organising them so that the clutter appeared to be less dramatic. He also sorted through the piles upon piles of documents that lined the walls of the sitting room. Ultimately, he threw out every bit of it when he decided that there was no way he could possibly get himself to sit down long enough to determine if each page needed to stay.

 _I never do this_ , he thought as he binned a few old experiments as well, although that wasn’t quite true. He had always made an effort to impress others upon first meeting them, but he rarely attempted to keep up that effort after knowing them for any length of time, usually because people generally had formed negative opinions of him by that point. John was different. John _had_ to be different.

While taking a break about six days into his cleaning rampage, he read through his conversation with John and pretended that he was doing it for purely logical reasons. What those logical reasons were, however, remained to be seen.

> `Last time, I scheduled my leave with one of my mates out here, and he let me crash with him and his fiancé while I was in London, but he’s not coming back with me this time.`
> 
> `I mean, I can always find somewhere else to crash for the week. I know your place is kind of small.`

That was when it hit him that he was being _absurd_. John wasn’t different at all. John was merely staying with him because he lacked somewhere better to stay. He could have put himself up in a hotel, to be sure, but he clearly knew that Sherlock was the cheaper option. In fact, it was far more likely that John was going to treat Baker Street as a hotel than it was for him to spend the week shacking up with Sherlock. They probably wouldn’t even see one another all that often.

A familiar feeling of disappointment dragged his innards down.

“Idiot,” he muttered scathingly to himself.

He looked around at his half-tidy flat. John probably wouldn’t care about the state of it. He’d be there only to sleep, and in spite of the flirtiness of their emails, it was likely that John would seek sexual satisfaction elsewhere. After all, they weren’t exclusive. They weren’t _anything_ , really. That hurt, yes, but Sherlock had always been very good at ignoring pain. He resolved to drop his efforts to impress John then and there, as it would clearly be a waste of time, and if dropping his efforts meant that John was going to be put off by him, then so be it.

 

\---

 

In the end, he may have dropped his efforts a bit too dramatically, because he was ultimately three hours late to pick John up from the airport. He had gotten wrapped up in the case he was working—for the proper authorities this time and not just a private client—and it was only after he solved it and checked his email that he realised what day it was.

> `Just landed. I probably should have gotten your number before all this, you know. Emailing is a bit awkward.`
> 
> `I’m at the terminal 2 meeting point.`
> 
> `Are you stuck in traffic or something? It’s been nearly an hour.`
> 
> `Christ, Sherlock. Ninety minutes. I’ve been waiting ninety minutes. The least you could do is check your email!`
> 
> `You’ve probably forgotten all about this, haven’t you? You’ve forgotten all about me. Has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit of a dick sometimes?`

Sherlock, in spite of his resolve not to care too much about John’s opinion of him, felt rather terrible reading through those emails. He leapt from his cab when he arrived at Heathrow and made his way toward the appropriate meeting point.

He looked around.

There were certainly a good number of people waiting for someone there, but not one of those people was John Watson. John likely would have been wearing his full military kit as well, so it wasn’t as if he’d be inconspicuous.

Sherlock checked the toilets, checked any and all nearby shops, and even tried to make his way back through the International Flights exit to see if John had somehow never made it out to the meeting point. He was promptly escorted from the airport.

There was nothing for it. He caught a cab back to Baker Street. Guilt settled uncomfortably over him. He wasn’t used to feeling like this. It was so rare for people to depend on him like this, so he almost never had the opportunity to let others down quite this severely. For the first time in months, he craved the needle.

He paid the cabbie disinterestedly and began the trek up those seventeen stairs.

There was a scuffle from inside 221B. Someone was in there. A client, perhaps? Mrs. Hudson was home, so it was likely that she had merely let up anyone claiming to have a case for him. That was—yes, that was exactly what he needed. If not cocaine, a case would surely help him keep his mind off of his emotional state.

He jogged up the last few steps and opened the door to his flat, preparing to look as dramatic as possible in his entrance.

Only, he faltered halfway through opening the door, because there, in his sitting room, was John Watson. He was wearing his uniform and had seated himself on the sofa. His bag rested by his feet.

Sherlock frowned. “What are you doing here?” he asked, which, as greetings went, was not exactly stellar.

John raised an eyebrow at his tone. “I’m staying here,” he pointed out.

Sherlock shut the door and hung up his coat. “I was late picking you up.”

John gave a short, humourless laugh. “I’d noticed that, yeah. After about two hours, I looked up your website again and saw your new address on it. Not exactly safe, that, but I came by, and your landlady let me up.”

Sherlock merely stared at him, trying to sort out the meaning of all of this. John had taken it upon himself to find Sherlock’s flat when Sherlock had failed to arrive.

Was that significant?

No, of course not. John was just reserving his right to stay at the flat since Sherlock had already agreed to it.

And then John grinned at him, and Sherlock temporarily forgot what he had been thinking about in the first place.

“I’ve surprised you,” John said, sounding ridiculously smug. He stood and started walking toward Sherlock, only stopping when their chests were nearly touching. John’s eyes flicked down toward his lips.

Sherlock continued to stare. He was beginning to feel hot all over, which was a marginally pleasant change from feeling guilty all over.

John rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “If you want something done right, clearly you’ve got to do it yourself,” he said, and then John was kissing him, and Sherlock’s thought processes skittered to a halt.

The kiss started almost gently, as if John was testing whether or not it would be permitted. When Sherlock kissed back, John made a sound low in his throat that set Sherlock’s blood aflame. After that, “gentle” wasn’t really a key factor anymore.

John backed Sherlock up against the door, licking into his mouth almost fiercely. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s neck, keeping him as close as possible, and contemplated the merits of wrapping his legs around John’s waist as well, although he doubted that John would be able to keep him upright for very long like that. He widened his stance, making room for John to step up right between his legs, which John did immediately.

God, he was getting hard already, especially now with John pressed up against him and kissing him with that level of forceful passion. He hadn’t had an orgasm in six months, and he cursed himself for not getting off a bit more during their separation from one another so that he wouldn’t embarrass himself this much in front of John.

But, _oh_ , John was hard as well, rocking himself forward against Sherlock’s thigh. Feeling it against him—thick, long, and solid—ripped a moan from Sherlock. The memory of that cock was enough to make his need urgent. He wrapped one leg around John’s waist, pulling him closer, and rutted forward against John’s hip.

John stopped kissing his mouth, his lips instead trailing down Sherlock’s neck. “You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmured against Sherlock’s throat. “I’ll bet you haven’t gotten yourself off in _ages_. You’re so desperate that you’re ready to burst after just a bit of snogging.”

Hearing John’s voice like that, low and dark and unbearably sexy, caused a new wave of arousal to sweep through Sherlock’s body. He moved more quickly against John, chasing that pleasure he’d gone without since they had last been together.

“So greedy for it, aren’t you?” John nipped at his neck before sucking hard on one spot, and, god, that felt incredible. “Go on, love. Get yourself off now. Take the edge off, because I’m nowhere near finished with you yet.” He licked at the bruise he’d sucked into Sherlock’s skin and reached around to grab Sherlock’s arse, guiding his thrusts.

And that was as much as Sherlock could handle. He dropped his head back against the door and cried out John’s name as his orgasm ripped through him. He rode out the waves, grinding against John’s hip as he did so.

It took nearly a full minute for the haze to clear itself from his mind. He dropped his leg back down to the floor and grimaced as the mess in his pants shifted against his sensitive skin.

John was clearly still hard, his cock a heated reminder of the fact that they weren’t done for the night, and before either of them could say anything, Sherlock began pulling John toward the bedroom.

“You said you weren’t finished with me yet,” he explained.

John grinned. “Not even close,” he affirmed.

 

\---

 

Later, when they had collapsed in bed in a sweaty heap, Sherlock considered that he might have been wrong about John. He could hear John’s heartbeat, steady and strong, where his head was resting on John’s chest. John was sleeping, but Sherlock couldn’t seem to get himself to do the same. He wasn’t willing to get his hopes up, but the fact that John had come to Baker Street and wanted to have sex with him in spite of Sherlock’s tardiness earlier that day _must_ have meant something. He supposed he would just have to wait to see how the rest of the week progressed to determine what exactly it meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/kudos appreciated, and you can find me on tumblr [here!](https://beeeskneees.tumblr.com/)


	6. six months (part two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me like a month to update! I haven't lost motivation for it, I've just been crazy busy! This chapter is a little on the longer side though so hopefully that makes up for it :)
> 
> The first part of this chapter is based largely on [this prompt](https://beeeskneees.tumblr.com/post/171286690914/hey-i-found-your-a03-stuff-and-absolutely-love) I received on [tumblr](https://beeeskneees.tumblr.com/)!

Sherlock, it turned out, was rubbish at Pictionary. At least, that was what John kept telling him through alternating fits of giggles and exasperated sighs. To be fair, Sherlock was fairly certain that the game they were playing was not regulation Pictionary, so he maintained that his skills could not be adequately judged.

“Time,” John called, holding up Sherlock’s phone, which was buzzing to announce the end of the allotted minute. He was smiling and hopped up from his seat on the sofa. “The objective is to _finish_ your drawing.”

Sherlock frowned. It was true. He had gotten approximately one-third of the way through his (remarkably accurate, he thought) depiction of a microscope, and John hadn’t even bothered to guess what the drawing was meant to represent.

“If I earned points in this ridiculous game for the true artistic interpretation of these words, I would have absolutely no problem,” Sherlock muttered, tossing the pen to John.

John moved to stand beside the armchair he favoured, on which they had placed a large notepad. He tore off the top sheet, crumpling up Sherlock’s remarkably accurate one-third of a microscope. “Well, you don’t get points for drawing,” he replied amiably. “You get points for guessing. If you weren’t so rubbish at that bit of this, too, I’d accuse you of drawing poorly on purpose to sabotage me.”

Sherlock threw himself into his own armchair with a huff.

Before this whole thing had begun, they had each written sixteen words on scraps of paper and dropped them into a black bowler hat Sherlock had acquired for a disguise somewhere along the line. John plucked a scrap of paper out now. He read the word on it and gave a hearty laugh. “Christ,” he muttered. “This is definitely one of the ones you wrote down.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the way John’s laugh made him feel. “If you didn’t write it, then by the process of elimination, it must have been one of the ones I wrote down. We’re the only two people playing.” He gestured around the empty flat as if demonstrating for John that there was, in fact, no one else around. John had told him that Pictionary was usually played with more than two people, and Sherlock had asked him if he knew of anyone he wanted to invite over to play, and John had agreed that, no, they really didn’t need anyone else taking up their time together, so they had settled into this rather poor imitation of the game. Six days into John’s leave, they were running out of ideas on how to entertain one another, clearly, but Sherlock at least took heart in the fact that John hadn’t yet grown bored of his presence.

“Go,” Sherlock said, starting the timer on his phone.

John scribbled messily on the paper, nothing but squiggling lines in a vaguely circular shape. He continued to add detail, but the lines remained entirely inexplicable to Sherlock. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t as remarkably realistic as the one-third of a microscope that had come before it.

Sherlock frowned. “Nothing I wrote down looks like that,” he pointed out. He glanced down at the timer. “Thirty seconds.”

John gave an aggrieved sigh and shook his head, although there was a smile pulling up at the corner of his lips. He tore off the sheet of paper and tossed it to the floor along with all of their previous drawings. He set to work again, this time moving much more slowly, ostensibly to increase his accuracy.

“Cerebellum,” Sherlock guessed, but John shook his head. More of the drawing came to life. He leaned forward in his chair. “Oh! A brain. A human brain.”

The timer buzzed, and Sherlock stood up from his seat, feeling victorious. He smoothed out his shirt smugly.

John laughed. “Don’t get too cocky.” He showed Sherlock the scrap of paper he’d been drawing from.

 _Sheep’s brain_.

Sherlock scowled. “Don’t be absurd. _That_ ”—he gestured angrily toward the picture—“is obviously _not_ a sheep’s brain. Look at the frontal lobe. It’s all wrong. That’s clearly a human brain.”

John laughed again and moved closer so that he could press a kiss to Sherlock’s scowl. “I’ve only dealt with human brains, love. I know bugger all about sheep.”

“I should still get a point for accurately describing what was drawn,” Sherlock argued. He couldn’t believe the unfairness of this. John was at fault for doing the drawing incorrectly. “You said we got points based on guessing. Well, I correctly guessed what you put up there. I demand a point.” He stomped his foot in emphasis.

John smirked and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist, pulling their chests together.

Sherlock’s anger over the injustice was downgraded to minor irritation. His own hands, which had still been pointing in displeasure at the picture, settled around John’s shoulders.

John brought their mouths close together, not quite touching but promising that touching was to come.

Sherlock swallowed.

“We could continue to stand here and argue about Pictionary,” John murmured, voice low.

“Or?” Sherlock prompted, hushed. He suddenly didn’t care at all about how poorly he had performed at their own recreation of the popular game.

“ _Or_ you could let me take you to bed right now.” John’s lips grazed against Sherlock’s own, a teasing facsimile of a kiss. God, the man knew how to manipulate him. It wasn’t in a cruel way—no, in their brief time together, John had never been cruel. Instead, it seemed that he knew precisely how to get Sherlock’s mind to shut down, to focus solely on their physical attraction to one another.

Sherlock found that he didn’t mind at all that John had somehow figured out how to do this after about seven days in total spent physically with one another. It was absurd that he was so easy to read for this man, but then again, it was absurd how attracted Sherlock was to him in the first place, so it was all on par with their general relationship.

Sherlock nodded once and broke their embrace as he strode purposefully over toward the bedroom.

John laughed and jogged to catch up with him. “Eager?” he teased, reaching out to take Sherlock’s hand.

Sherlock stopped in the doorway to his bedroom and glanced pointedly down at the steadily growing bulge in the front of John’s jeans. “I’m not the only one who’s eager, it seems.”

John looked momentarily ashamed at being caught out, but even that wasn’t enough to take away his smile. He’d smiled essentially the entire time he’d been there. He’d even been smiling as he’d told Sherlock off that first night for being such a prat about picking him up from the airport. For a man who clearly had a bit of a temper, John seemed to be in remarkably good spirits now that he was no longer at war, at least for the time being. Sherlock would need to make a note to bring that up toward the end of John’s scheduled tour to discourage him from signing up for another one.

John met his gaze, and said, “Can you blame me for being eager? I mean—look at you. You’re perfect.”

And then quite suddenly Sherlock had a difficult time thinking of anything at all.

John laughed again and dropped Sherlock’s hand in favour of scooping him into his (incredibly strong, devastatingly sexy) arms. Sherlock yelped, startled out of his momentary panic at being called perfect by arguably the most perfect man in the world, and barely had time to protest before he was tossed onto the bed, John almost immediately settling on top of him.

Sherlock took advantage of their new position and pulled John down into a deep kiss. John obliged him (of course he did; John had never once denied Sherlock a kiss) and began steadily doing away with Sherlock’s clothing. John seemed to enjoy having Sherlock entirely naked from the start of their sexual encounters, with his own nudity being secondary. It had been a bit uncomfortable the first few times, as Sherlock had never quite felt so on display for someone else, but he had quickly discovered that John’s gaze was predatory, complimentary, never degrading.

As expected, John pulled Sherlock’s trousers and pants off in one go and sat back on his heels at the food of the bed, staring. He licked his lips, eyes moving up and down Sherlock’s body as if this wasn’t the thirteenth time John had seen it in the last six days.

“Gorgeous,” John breathed, and in spite of the fact that he repeated such compliments every time they had sex, Sherlock still found himself flushing at how genuine it sounded.

“You’re forgetting something,” Sherlock muttered, trying to distract from his embarrassment. He plucked at John’s jumper, not really bothering to try getting it off, merely pointing out that it was still on.

John grinned. “Of course,” he teased. “Wouldn’t want to deprive you of the view.” He stripped himself efficiently and was soon back on the bed with Sherlock, hands moving over his body as if unable to get enough.

Sherlock squirmed under John’s touch, his skin hyper-sensitive now. John’s calloused fingers tweaked his nipples, rubbed his hips, smoothed down his arms, and Sherlock really could not take any more of that. He reached over for the lube that had remained out on the table beside his bed for the entirety of John’s visit, as it was far more efficient to keep it available than to have to get it out every time the mood struck them. He shoved the lube in John’s direction. “Put your hands to better use,” he demanded, although it was difficult to sound intimidating with his cock sticking straight up in the air.

John took the tube and murmured a smug, “As you wish.”

He took his time working Sherlock open. John was always deliberate in his preparation, waiting until Sherlock was just on the edge of begging before adding another finger, only brushing gently over his prostate once or twice the entire time, keeping him on edge. It ought to have been irritating, but it was somehow precisely what Sherlock needed in order to keep his mind from over-thinking the entire ordeal. In fact, with John’s four fingers now working inside of him, Sherlock was having a difficult time thinking at all, which was exactly what he wanted.

“Now,” he pleaded, his cock throbbing. He needed John inside him properly, felt that he would go mad if he didn’t have it.

John didn’t make him wait any longer. His fingers pulled out, ripping a whine from Sherlock’s throat, and he almost immediately he lined his cock up to replace them.

When he started to move, he was slower than he usually was. Previously, they had fucked. They had had sex. They had done all sorts of wicked things to one another. This, however, was something sweeter. Perhaps it was because this was John’s last night with him. In the morning, he would accompany John back to the airport, and they wouldn’t be able to see one another until the end of his tour. That must have meant something to John, for this was—as far as Sherlock was concerned—the first time they had ever made love rather than just had sex.

He didn’t beg John to go faster as he had before. Instead, he wrapped his arms around John’s neck and pulled him down into another kiss, this one gentler than the last. He ached with the sweetness of it.

“You’re a marvel,” John murmured against his lips. He jerked his hips up a bit, his cock brushing against Sherlock’s prostate.

Sherlock cried out, far more subdued than his cries normally were during sex with John (Mrs. Hudson had needed to invest in ear-plugs). “ _Oh_ , yes, do that again.”

“Anything for you,” John breathed, and in that moment, it truly sounded like he meant it. He rocked his hips up again, adding a big more kick to his thrusts now but taking away none of their tenderness.

Sherlock came first, as he almost always did. His lack of solid experience seemed to work against him that regard, but John had told him after their fifth time together that he thought it was hot, limiting Sherlock’s embarrassment over that fact. This time, John wasn’t far behind, as if he had been waiting or Sherlock’s release to allow his own. He rocked into Sherlock a few more times before stilling, a low grown passing through his lips. Sherlock ran his hands over John’s back throughout it, soothing him through his orgasm. He was glad they had done away with condoms while John was on leave. He was rather addicted to the feeling of John coming inside him.

John pulled out and settled next to him on the bed. He wrapped one arm around Sherlock’s shoulders and pulled him closer, as if incapable of remaining separate from him for much longer. “That was incredible,” he said softly, his tone matching that of the preceding love-making.

Sherlock hummed in reply and rolled over so that he could rest his head on John’s shoulder. He flung a leg and an arm over John’s body. “Going to miss that,” he admitted, keeping his face buried in the crook of John’s neck.

He could tell that John was smiling. How was it that they seemed to know one another so well already? “Oh, I think we’ll have time for another round in the morning. I don’t have to leave until shortly before lunch.”

 _And then you’ll be gone for months_ , Sherlock thought. Didn’t say.

The last week had been incredible. When he had been younger, back in his early teenage years, he had longed for a proper relationship as many teens do. He had always envisioned what romance would be like with a dashing man who cared deeply for him. Of course, it hadn’t taken long before his peers notified him that people like him—that _freaks_ like him—don’t get that sort of happy ending. He had really, truly believed them, which made it all the more surprising when John made it clear on that first night that they were—for all intents and purposes—in a romantic relationship, albeit a temporary one. John held his hand constantly when they went out, kissed his cheek whenever the urge arose, snogged him up against every piece of furniture in the flat. John told him that he was beautiful and perfect. John brushed his hair out of his face in the morning and cooked him breakfast and acted interested in his work and experiments.

John was perfect.

For half his life, Sherlock had believed that he could never have this, and John had come along and given it to him without prompting. Even though he knew that this wasn’t a real relationship (there had been no discussion of feelings or commitments, and John had never indicated that he wanted this to last), Sherlock couldn’t fight the sliver of hope that had bloomed in his chest that maybe, when John returned for good, this thing between them could develop into one.

He only wished they didn’t have to wait for it. God, the waiting was going to be unbearable, as would be the sudden lack of romance in his life after a heady week of nothing but.

John must have noticed his silence, because he wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders and held him tightly. “I’m going to miss you, too, you know,” he said, dropping a kiss into Sherlock’s curls.

Sherlock didn’t reply, but he didn’t let go of John, either. They stayed that way, clinging to one another as if this truly was the end, for the remainder of the night, both seemingly dreading the sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments/kudos appreciated! Check me out on [tumblr](https://beeeskneees.tumblr.com/) if you'd like!


	7. seven months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: This chapter is not going to look good on mobile! For mobile users, please scroll to the bottom and see the end of chapter notes for a non-formatted transcript. This chapter is written in the way that a text conversation would appear on an iPhone, so the sender (Sherlock)'s texts appear on the right where the receiver (Lestrade)'s texts appear on the left.
> 
> Sorry it's taken me an age to update this! I've been super busy again, and I sort of haven't been able to organically write the next scene I had planned out for this fic, so I'm kinda stuck! I was going to add a bit of angst here, but re-reading the stuff I've written so far, the angst I had planned doesn't really fit! Oh well, I'll figure something else out.

**G(??) Lestrade**

 

                                                          Hey. Done with your ban on cases?

  

I never had a ban on cases. I just was                                                            
temporarily occupied.                                                            
SH                                                           

Do you have something for me?                                                            
SH                                                          

  

                                                          Yeah, bit of a weird one. You did good on  
                                                          the last few we brought you in on, so don’t  
                                                          screw this up.

  

Your confidence in me is, as ever, inspiring.                                                            
SH                                                           

 

                                                          Yeah, yeah. So, will you come?

 

I don’t exactly have anything else on at                                                            
the moment, so I might as well.                                                            
SH                                                          

 

                                                          I meant to ask, what was so important that  
                                                          you wouldn’t take cases last week? I popped  
                                                          by your flat on Wednesday, and your landlady  
                                                          said you had company over. Anything you’d  
                                                          like to share?

 

My love life is none of your concern.                                                            
SH                                                           

 

                                                          Sherlock, do you have a boyfriend?

 

No.                                                            
SH                                                           

I don’t know.                                                            
SH                                                          

 We haven’t discussed labels.                                                            
SH                                                          

  

                                                          How did you two meet?

 

I’m fairly certain that’s not a story you                                                            
want to hear in great detail.                                                            
SH                                                           

He’s a soldier. We met around six or seven                                                            
months ago when he was on leave.  He                                                            
came back to visit last week.                                                            
SH                                                          

  

                                                          A soldier, huh?

 

Yes, and a doctor, too.                                                            
SH                                                           

 

                                                          And you like him?

 

Right. That’s enough. Back to the case.                                                            
Tell me about the victim.                                                            
SH                                                           

 

                                                          Oh, come on. Will you at least let me know  
                                                          when he comes back next time? I’d like to  
                                                          meet this guy.

 

Yes, fine. I’ll bring him along on a case                                                            
next time he’s back. He’ll certainly be                                                            
more useful than Anderson.                                                            
SH                                                           

Now, the victim.                                                            
SH                                                          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contact: G(??) Lestrade
> 
> Hey. Done with your ban on cases?
> 
>  
> 
> I never had a ban on cases. I just was temporarily occupied.  
> SH
> 
> Do you have something for me?  
> SH
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah, bit of a weird one. You did good on the last few we brought you in on, so don’t screw this up.
> 
>  
> 
> Your confidence in me is, as ever, inspiring.  
> SH
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah, yeah. So, will you come?
> 
>  
> 
> I don’t exactly have anything else on at the moment, so I might as well.  
> SH
> 
>  
> 
> I meant to ask, what was so important that you wouldn’t take cases last week? I popped by your flat on Wednesday, and your landlady said you had company over. Anything you’d like to share?
> 
>  
> 
> My love life is none of your concern.  
> SH
> 
>  
> 
> Sherlock, do you have a boyfriend?
> 
>  
> 
> No.  
> SH
> 
> I don’t know.  
> SH
> 
> We haven’t discussed labels.  
> SH
> 
>  
> 
> How did you two meet?
> 
>  
> 
> I’m fairly certain that’s not a story you want to hear in great detail.  
> SH
> 
> He’s a soldier. We met around six or seven months ago when he was on leave. He came back to visit last week.  
> SH
> 
>  
> 
> A soldier, huh?
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, and a doctor, too.  
> SH
> 
>  
> 
> And you like him?
> 
>  
> 
> Right. That’s enough. Back to the case. Tell me about the victim.  
> SH
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, come on. Will you at least let me know when he comes back next time? I’d like to see this guy with my own two eyes.
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, fine. I’ll bring him along on a case next time he’s back. He’ll certainly be more useful than Anderson.  
> SH
> 
> Now, the victim.  
> SH


End file.
